


To His Brave Blogger

by SPICE (SPICEandTEA)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-02
Updated: 2012-11-02
Packaged: 2017-11-17 15:02:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPICEandTEA/pseuds/SPICE
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's thoughts about John leaving for Afghanistan</p>
            </blockquote>





	To His Brave Blogger

Had he but world enough, and time, Sherlock would have let John with him, for every crime.  
Lead him through the grimy streets of London, dark and weary, until they were out of breath.  
Push them to the limit of fright and excitement, with obvious threat for death.

Had he but world enough, and time, Sherlock would let John in. 

To the past, to his mistakes, to every miracle, and every sin. He’d sit John down and expose his soul: from the cocaine and the emptiness—from the first cases, exhilarating races, to the earlier years, shaded, and grim. Sherlock would carry on stories of his experimental childhood, Mycroft looming at his side. All of this and more, for John, if they had only had the time. 

He’d show John all his favorite spots, embarrassing ones and all. He’d tell John how hard it would have been, if he would have made “the Fall”. Emotions and words would spill out of his mouth--if only John could know, the intense feelings and care for John that he could never show. 

He’d take John across the country, across the water, across the world.  
They’d travel, taste exotic things, and truly learn to feel.  
Together they would see equally beautiful and horrible places, learn beautiful and horrible things;  
and together, they would learn to cope with what beautiful and horrible brings.

But alas they do not have the time; they do not have the world.  
They have mere days, mere minutes, seconds, until it all unfurls.  
The march of military boots will slowly come into play, as Sherlock plays his violin to wish it all away. 

The promise of coming together again is implied, but never said—goodbye was never an option; it’s too final, it’s too dead. 

But the seconds till tick by as they’re sent off on their way. John will be off to the army, once more, and words will still be left unsaid.

“Had we but enough world, and time--” Sherlock had once said

“Don’t worry”, John replied, “for this is not the end.”


End file.
